


Relax.

by Sinbirdy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Jack, CEO Rhys (Borderlands), Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, Jack - Freeform, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Top Rhys (Borderlands)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/pseuds/Sinbirdy
Summary: To put it bluntly, Rhys decides the best way to relax Jack's stress is to eat his ass, and despite Jack's Top™ reservations, he gives in.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 160





	Relax.

A tense Jack is never a good thing. Jack without a high blood pressure is a killing machine, hellbent on entertaining himself violently, so adding irritation to the mix just further promises mass genocide. Jack in a _good_ mood can muster up rationality at least a quarter of the time, but angry Jack-- he'll shoot a man dead just for coughing in the next room over. If it inconveniences him even just a slither, it's enough reason to kill. 

And his work has just been _hellish_ as of late, with twice the amount of paperwork and meetings. Discussions about arms trade, oil distribution, land purchase- lots of boring nonsense that fried his brain, and left him yearning for any euphoria to release the pressures of hard work. Jack's a good businessman, no one can doubt that - he's found the ideal balance between psychopath and cunning strategist that puts him above the rest - but his patience is not something to be jealous of. He can't stand when his work comes with no results, and even worse is when those around him lack the motivation to get things going. Progress is what matters, and without any, he feels like a failure.

Rhys is the one who deals with Jack on a personal level, and if people thought boss man Jack was bad, they had no idea the tantrums behind closed doors. Since Atlas and Hyperion had made their peace as rivals, Rhys often visited his on again off again lover for a lunch break or more. As of late Jack had been insufferable to meet, and Rhys was starting to feel his own patience wear thin dealing with the mood swings; and having no _fun_ to at least compensate. He planned to change that though, and give Jack the relaxation he so desperately needed.

He walks past Jack's PA no problem, just a wave and a coy smile, and enters the code to Jack's office. Walking through he's greeted with Jack near tearing his hair out over a cluster of paperwork on his desk, growling curses under his breath. Rhys can't help but snicker in amusement. Once upon a time Jack's scowl would have struck fear into him, but now it's rather " _cute_ ", to Jack's displeasure.

"If you're here to distract me, kitten, then kindly save it for another day, alright? I haven't the time to deal with you " Jack starts messing through the papers with no organisation. His face is heavy with frustration - his forehead wrinkles with a permanent frown, his eyes have the ghostly bloodshot remains of sleepless nights, and Rhys could tell by the slight scruff leading down his neck that Jack hasn't shaved in some time. When disheveled Jack is curling up to him in bed, blissed out after rough, heated sex, then Rhys can take it, but this is unacceptable.

"Get your stuff, we're going to lunch." Rhys orders, but Jack simply laughs and shakes his head. Rhys frowns. "I'm serious, you've been a miserable asshole lately, and I'm--"

"Excuse me while I find a reason to care." Jack's scowl is like lava. "I'm looking to bring on new investors in time for the intergalactic weaponry summit, which means perfecting everything down to the last detail. You know those boneheads down in the lab are saying the newest line of Slag is unstable due to air pollution? _Air pollution_ , Rhys-- we're in God damn space for crying out loud!" Jack grunts loudly and straightens up, running his hands through his hair to take the second he needs. Rhys just stares at him with a deadpan expression. "Am I the only one with a freakin' brain around here?!"

"You've been an insufferable grouch lately." Rhys slowly makes his way toward Jack's desk. He delicately walks two fingers along the desk's edge as he saunters to Jack's side, before wrapping his arms around his neck and pushing him to sit on the desk edge. Jack's hands instinctively take position at Rhys' hips, and for the first time in what feels like forever he cracks the bare minimum of a smile. "And I think you need something to put you at ease."

"Mmm, as tempting as that sounds, kitten, I have to turn you down. Daddy needs to get these damn files ready for--"

Jack didn't expect Rhys to slap his hand over his mouth so suddenly. He stares Jack down with an intimidating lust, and grins as Jack's eyes look between Rhys' and his hand. 

" _Daddy_ is going to do exactly as I say, got it?" 

That goes straight to Jack's dick in a matter of milliseconds. He feels a tight pull at his core as he smirks under Rhys' palm. Before he can even retort, Rhys forces his flesh hand down the front of Jack's trousers and inside his boxers, quick to grope his semi. Jack goes down into his shoulders and bucks his hips at the touch. Rhys can see his devilish grin lift his face beneath his hand.

He doesn't want anything to stop him though, so he acts much faster than he'd like. He drops his cybernetic hand to the button of his trousers and when they're loose he pulls them down to reveal Jack's beautiful cock, bobbing to attention, now fully hard. He leans in to kiss Jack feverishly while slipping off his blazer. Jack's tongue is quick to push past his lips, and he's glad his attempts at seduction are being met with equal parts intrigue.

Jack's taken aback when Rhys forces him to lay on his desk flat. His chest is against Jack's, and though smaller in frame and stature, Rhys commands his obedience. He gently lifts himself to hover above Jack and drops his flesh hand to slowly pump Jack's cock, watching with a cocky grin how the older man arches his back in response. Jack grins too, reaching out to touch Rhys anyway how.

"When you're right, you're right, baby! You bouncing on daddy's cock is definitely the stress relief I need. Come on, saddle up." Jack licks his lips and cocks his jaw with his tongue, anticipating Rhys to follow orders and prepare himself for Jack's length.

The actuality of the situation however is Rhys leaning down to lick a long, wet strip up Jack's twitching cock, deliberate to mouth the prick and suck where pre-cum spills, before chuckling. Jack growls like a bear in the wild, and even better yelps when Rhys quickly flips him over to reveal his naked ass. Rhys can't see him, but he imagines Jack's shock to be the epitome of hilarity.

"Uh, Rhysie, this isn't the position I was thi--"

"I'm going to rim you, Jack."

It's as if someone attached live cable wires to his head, Jack jolts up and tries to squirm away. Rhys rests his hand on Jack's lower back to keep him pinned in place.

"Are you freakin' nuts? Not a chance!"

"Why not?" Rhys leans in over Jack and breathes hot and heavy against his neck and cheek. The obvious bulge in his suit trousers presses up against Jack's ass and has him instinctively bowing for more. Rhys chuckles darkly under his breath, kissing Jack's jaw line. "You _love_ doing it to me, handsome. You're always talking about the taste," he strokes a finger lightly down Jack's hip, and lands on his bare ass cheek, taking it in his palm fully to squeeze. "How you love watching me whine and beg. And I know for a fact it's _very_ relaxing…"

The way Rhys speaks, like caramelised honey, it melts Jack. He's stubborn though, to a fault, and though he has a lot of kinky secrets behind closed doors, giving Rhys the reins when he's in the mind frame of big bad CEO feels… _invasive_. It's too close to home - makes his insecurities flare up and his chest tighten. 

He doesn't like admitting to weakness. He never has. Sure, it's a pride thing, his ego is like toxic waste over almost all his other human emotions, but it's also like a knife through his heart. Being weak in _anyone's_ company reminds him too much of his past. Even in Rhys' compassion, it's agony.

However, he swallows down the instinct to push him away. He takes a deep breath and tries to convince himself this is _his_ idea. His moody behaviour lately, eventually promoting Rhys to seduce him out of sheer ravenous lust? Yepp, all part of a plan. 

Rhys strokes his finger down Jack's coxis light as a feather while kissing his shoulder blade, and before Jack realises, Rhys is between his cheeks, rubbing the ring of his hole softly and pressing just enough to make him flinch. Jacks chest lurches like someone's caught them, but he's perfectly safe...or--

"Rhy-Rhysie, the door…" Jack's voice is already soft. He's confused when Rhys laughs against him. His free hand starts working Jack's grey jacket off, leaving him in his waistcoat. Jack's legs strain to widen with his pants around his knees, and Rhys laughs under his breath when he notices the buckle. 

"I already locked it."

That makes Jack growl. Rhys really had this planned out. 

Rhys leans in over Jack's back. His hand slips down Jack's waist. He feels at home between his cheeks. He uses his ring finger to gently rub the sensitive puckered rim while his other fingers push against the flesh of his ass cheeks, and at the point of contact Jack lets out a staggered moan, shoulders tensing up to bury his face. He feels smooth as velvet. 

Jack let his head fall against the desk as he arches his back for Rhys to touch him more. Before dating Rhys, the last person he let see his asshole was when he dated Nisha and she'd begged to peg him. He'd been resistant at first, but the same way with Rhys' proposal, puppy dog eyes and promises of a good time, it broke him down. The dumb, caveman part of his brain was only so strong to resist a selfish desire that's all about _him_. He tightens his fists like there's a sheet beneath him to grab, and watches the distortion where olive burns pink and white. He wishes he wasn't wearing so many damn layers either, the warmth flooding him like an uncontrolled forest fire. 

His knees wobble inward of each other and he arches his shoulders as Rhys keeps massaging his hole. He knows under his mask his cheeks are a disgustingly warm shade of red. Even worse is he actually whines when Rhys pulls his hand away.

Rhys grips Jack's hips tight and admires the sight of his strong, powerful boyfriend presenting himself in what some would consider an undignified manner. Deep, rigid scars falling down his back to even the top of his buttocks, and moles and freckles hiding in plain sight on his tanned skin. Jack was, to put it bluntly, a little flat, but Rhys hardly cared. His legs were shapely and toned all the same, and even if what Jack lacked in junk in the trunk, he surely made up for with his cock. Rhys couldn't help but let out a content sigh while marveling over the beauty.

Jack is aggravated, though. Embarrassed, out of his comfort zone completely, and afraid his next call will come through any minute, he tenses his shoulders and does his best to look behind him, glaring at Rhys. "Would you hurry up and get on with it? I can feel a damn breeze going up my asshole where what I assume should be your tongue!"

Rhys laughs. "How come you're allowed to tease me but I can't have some fun with you?" 

Rhys grips each of Jack's exposed cheeks, pulling them apart and taking in the jaw dropping sight of Jack's pristine, tidy, pink starfish. He near whistles just at the look - contrary to the brown hairs littering his skin and the rugged masculinity he holds near and dear to his heart, Jack's a man who pays close attention to his grooming. It's almost as if he's been anticipating this day. Rhys decides it's best to just give Jack the moment he's been anticipating and buries his face in. 

The reward is a sudden yelp from the older man. Rhys starts off gently, with slow, firm licks that have Jack pressing his abdomen hard against the desk edge, like more space is there, and back arching into a curve so he could unknowingly bow his hips towards Rhys. Already, Jack is overwhelmed, in the best possible way ever. He's done this to Rhys a dozen times over, loves how it is to be on the giving side of things, so why has he never asked for this sooner? Rhys is so gentle, like enthused kitten licks. The way Rhys' thumbs press into his ass, holding him open, so he can get a better angle, it has Jack's dick leaking already. 

It doesn't last long though. Just as Jack relaxes, Rhys pulls back. His slender fingers replace his tongue and pry at his hole, but never actually give him satisfaction. Jack arches and instinctively rocks back, whimpering as long fingers circle the tight ring of muscle without slipping in and letting Jack release the tightness in his chest.

"Fuck, _baby_ , would you-- Jesus, c'mon, I'm begging you…" Jack scrunches his eyes shut and grits his teeth. He might actually explode, right there, burst into flames out of embarrassment and shame.

"Would I…? Use your words, Jack."

Oh, Jack could strangle him right about now. He can practically _hear_ the cocky grin on his voice. 

"You said this was going to relax me... giving me blue balls is the furthest thing from relaxing!"

"I wanted to make sure you liked it first. You're okay for me to keep going?" 

Jack is going to kill him. Rhys actually has the audacity to take charge and push Jack out of his comfort zone, just to _check in_ with him? Worst of all, there was something unbelievably sexy about how considerable Rhys is that makes Jack even more irritable.

"Yeah I liked it, would you just-- hurry up and do it again!"

Rhys laughs, and Jack's about to curse him out again, but then he feels him dive back in and his annoyance melts away. Rhys is _good_ at this- he knows Jack's body way better than Jack probably knew himself. He's considerate to how Jack reacts, studies each sound and movement, and applies what he finds best. It's not surprising really, but Jack's still got his dumb hang ups about bottoming it doesn't happen often; he seems to forget every time how attentive Rhys is of a lover. 

And boy is he right. Sex is incredible, but there's something blissfully euphoric about how Rhys' tongue feels. In his office, still mostly clothed, he lets Rhys reduce him to a puddle of moans. It's somehow more intimate than sex even though he can't see Rhys. Usually when Jack does it he has Rhys on his back, holding his legs over his shoulders as he eats him out like a starved man. This, though more sudden and erotic, feels more _tender_. Jack starts to feel lighter than air.

Rhys covers all bases too, leaves no stone unturned. He dips his tongue down to tease at Jack's perineum and ever so gently bites the area, kneading Jack's cheeks in the process. Jack moans, bucking his hips with every timid bite before Rhys drags his tongue back up.

This is heaven, for both of them. Rhys loves listening to the soft, complacent mewls of Jack clouded by lust, and Jack's too horny to even think about anything other than happiness. Rhys uses his thumbs to tease at the edges of Jack's drenched hole, rubbing and pulling to make him twitch, then dives straight back in with another swift swipe of his tongue. It has Jack's toes curling inside his sneakers, his knuckles straining ghostly white as he tightens his fist.

Then the worst happens. Jack's phone starts to ring. It busts through his brain like lightening and reconnects his loose, lusted wires to comprehend the moment. 

"Shi-Shit~ Rhysie, sssstOp!" He shivers as Rhys presses his tongue in deep and flicks it in quick succession. Eventually he's able to push Rhys back by his forehead and looks at him over his shoulder. "I gotta take this."

Rhys raises a brow. "So?"

"So?! So-- get off your knees and make yourself scarce!"

But the wicked grin that he's given is nothing close to obedient. In fact, he wraps his hands around Jack's waist to hold his abdomen, and playfully bites his ass cheek. Jack grunts in annoyance, glaring at him. "This is payback for when I had the Johnson call and you kept deep-throating me."

 _Ah fuck,_ Jack thought as he recalled the day all to well - poor Rhys squirming in his seat, pleading for Jack to stop edging him and damn near moaning Mr Johnson's name as he came down Jack's throat. He could have lost a huge investor that day…

Jack grits his teeth and tries to make his case, but before he can, Rhys is buried deep in his ass again lapping up his puckered asshole like it's laced in sweet candy. Jack is embarrassed by how soft his voice goes at the feeling. He turns back and takes a deep breath. If Rhys wants to play, then Jack just has to man up and take it. He won't be beat out and lose the deal with Elon.2's army sector.

Jack hits the answer button, and focuses his attention on the slight static drone in the background of Mr Winston's line. He grips the table edge tight. "Well hello Mr Winston. Here to accept that once in a lifetime offer I threw out for you?"

"You think I was born without a brain, Jack? I don't _care_ how many A.I automatic machine guns you propose to us, we are not interested in weaponry that could explode when needing to reload!"

Jack would be annoyed by the disrespectful tone, but the way Rhys actually _nuzzles_ his face further between his asscheeks has his brain turning to mush. He presses his forehead hard against the desk wood while Mr Winston complains further, and nearly loses his mind when Rhys' mouth becomes more eager. Suddenly the obscenely wet noises of Rhys tongue fucking him echo around his office; his heart clenches as he wonders if Mr Winston can _hear_ it.

"Okay shut your pie hole, Winston." Jack cuts him off, pushing his head up off the desk to glare at the caller I.D. He inhales deeply and accidentally shivers on the exhale. "Have you seen the state of the guns your guys have got right now? Pathetic, ugly, weak _excuses_ for firearms if _yOU--_ " he gasps suddenly as Rhys flattens his tongue and swipes up hard. "You ask me... I'm not interested in a long winded discussion right now. Either take the deal and be better off, or…" he steadies himself and swallows down the moan brewing in his throat. "Die. Pick one."

"Die? You're very young and naive, Jack. I'm not afraid of you."

He's lucky Jack's in no position to threaten him right now, though he's a resourceful leader. Bowing his hips for Rhys and pressing one button brings up an old reliable friend. He mutes Mr Winston and waits for the ringing on his other line to cease.

"Jack-a-boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Rhys lifts his head at the distinctive accent. "You're calling Zane?"

"Rhysie, is that you I hear? Ah, you horn dog, what's the pair of you up to during office hours, huh?"

Jack grunts. "Zane, I'll pay you a lifetime's worth of beer to give Mr Winston of Elon.2 PTSD." 

There’s silence, then, “Only if you tell me what you and Rhys are up to?”

“Flynt, I swear to Christ--”

“It must be good, c’mon. You don’t just call my services for nothing, so give me the details and I’ll be in the old bastards office in less than 5 minutes!”

Jack was about to blow his own brains out. He slams his hands down on the desk and pushes up, looking over his shoulder to Rhys. The younger man looks smug. Jack wants to smack the look of his face.

“If you must know, Rhys had his tongue in my ass when this wrinkly old scrotum called and refused the sweet deal I had set up, and right now I have no patience to negotiate, so I’m going with old reliable. Threaten the fucker to take the deal, and I’ll lend you Rhys’ tongue along with the beer.”

“Hay, Jack, what the fuck--?”

“Not to worry, Jacky, you had me at ‘ _tongue in your ass_ ’. I’ll call you when it’s done!” Zane promptly hangs up the phone.

Jack clicks his neck then looks over his shoulder to Rhys again. "Relaxing?"

Rhys' smile softens and he nods. "Relaxing." He reassures. He lays a hand on Jack's back and pushes him gently to rest on his desk again, then he leans over his back and hangs up on Mr Winston (who, unbelievably, was still ranting away with no idea to them ignoring him).

It feels like he'd been gone for a century, that when Rhys resumes his place between Jack's ass cheeks, working his tongue to dip half an inch in his puckered hole, Jack lets out a sound akin to a cry. It takes him by surprise as much as it does Rhys. The younger man buries himself deeper between his warm skin, wraps his arm around Jack's waist and holds him close.

Rhys finds his pacing again. His mouth picks up to make a wet, heated mess, and only gets more ravenous the louder Jack moans. The timidity he had has completely dropped, and now Rhys wonders if Jack's lust-drunk cries are like siren songs for all his workers to hear and envy. Rhys can't help but make sweet, content sounds himself, only adding to Jack's own arousal as the soft vibration of his hums make him tingle.

Rhys has a good rhythm - he traces the puffy ring of muscle with the tip of his tongue then pushes inside a little so he makes Jack choke on his own anticipation. Blink and he'll miss it, because then he pulls back and resumes lapping at his hole and watching how Jack twitches desperately. Rinse, repeat, until Jack is groaning in desperation, nearly suffocating Rhys he pushes his ass back on him so intensely.

He needs more. His cock hangs thick and heavy between his legs, spurting pathetic dribbles of cum. He finally wraps a hand around himself while pressing his ass against Rhys' face, but to his surprise Rhys slaps his ass, hard, and pulls back. Jack's about to yell at him but then he feels Rhys push his ring finger inside his soaking wet hole right up to his knuckle, and he whines.

"You should let me take care of you more often, handsome." Rhys says, so delicately the juxtaposition of his finger pushing against his prostate makes Jack see stars. He leans in till he's inches from his face. Jack lets his head drop like dead weight on the desk when Rhys kisses his cheek. "It's a nice sight."

"Don't get co--" He grits his teeth as he inhales. "Cocky...I'm the one incharge out of us."

"Yeah? Maybe…" Rhys pulls his finger out and slaps Jack's ass again, chuckling when he yelps. "You deserve to be pampered every once and a while though. Don't you feel so much better?"

"Maybe when I cu--" Jack whines on the tail end of his smart ass response, instinctively pressing back against Rhys' mouth again. He can feel how soaked he is, like someone shoved a shower head up his ass and left him dripping wet. Rhys presses his tongue against Jack's entrance, flattening his tongue and curling it when he's at the end, teasing his hole. Over and over again, yet somehow the repetition never gets old. His brows bow and his mouth falls open permanently as he finally let's go of the last knot in his body, and fully _relaxes_.

The bite of Rhys' fingernails digging into his ass makes Jack's skin spike with goosebumps. Rhys well and truly eats Jack out like he's been malnourished his whole life. Jack's mind becomes nothing but lazy tidal waves. Small bolts of pleasure run up his spine. He would hate how twitchy he is if he wasn't so intoxicated on his climax gradually drawing closer. 

Rhys uses his thumbs to tease the edges of his hole, never ceasing his tongue in the process. He moves with more urgency, really working his jaw muscles to be sure Jack cums harder than he ever has. His own cock is throbbing mercilessly in his suit pants, but he leaves it, more focused on Jack and his needs. He decides to play nice and takes Jack's cock in his grasp, agonisingly slowly pumping. Jack's toes curl in his shoes and he scrapes his nails down the desk suddenly as the threat of orgasm comes rushing forth.

"Ahn~ yess, fucking-- _shit_ , baby, _God~_ , eat me out, _please_ ," Jack sounds like he might actually cry. Rhys grins like a proud cheshire cat and keeps wanking him off while circling his tongue around the tight muscle. Jack's moans are near to deafening by this point. With another few slow, firm licks and a quick wrist, Jack's back eventually arches into a neat curve and he cums over Rhys hand while yelling his name, pressing his face against his desk. His body convulses awkwardly a few times as the high rolls through his nerves, and even when he's done and Rhys hand is drenched in Jack's cum, his legs turn to jelly that he collapsed like dead weight against his desk.

Rhys pulls his face out of Jack's ass and stands up straight. He grabs a tissue from the convenient box on Jack's desk and wipes his hand dry, then grabs another for his face. His chin and upper lip are glistening from his own saliva. He looks down at Jack and laughs through a soft snort. The older man is half asleep, now dopey from his post-orgasm high, with his ass still hanging out. It's quite a sight - one Rhys imagines Jack would kill everyone then himself if they ever saw. He helps Jack get himself dressed again then aids him back into his seat, taking a seat on Jack's knee himself. He timidly starts unlatching the hinges of Jack's mask and rests it on his desk before grabbing another tissue to dab his sweaty face.

True to suspicion too, Jack hasn't shaved in a while.

Jack's breathing is heavy. He's unnervingly quiet.

"I can come over tonight and help you shave, if you like?" He asks, stroking his thumb over Jack's chin. Rhys admires the ridged shape of Jack's scar, the fading colour that's become a sickly blue shade against his tanned skin. Something most people don't know is Jack's nose is covered in freckles. Rhys loves to silently count them whenever he gets the chance.

Jack hums and nods. "Yeah, that'd be nice…" then he groans. He slips his hand around his waist. "Sorry I've been an asshole lately."

"It's okay. I know you're just stressed. I just missed you, is all."

"Yeah...I missed you too. Um, do you think maybe," he coughs awkwardly, looking down at Rhys' chest. Jack's a lot bigger than Rhys yet in this moment he feels so small. His heart thumps violently in his throat. "We could try some stuff tonight at my place? I uh... I'm interested to know how else you'd take care of me."

Rhys dick is aching just at the idea. Looking at Jack and his puppy dog eyes, he feels like throwing him down and fucking him then and there, but he saves his enthusiasm for when they're alone. He can tell Jack's slowly coming down, and he's not comfortable with the vulnerability he's let loose. Rhys respects that, and hell, he _loves_ that.

"Of course. Anything you want." He takes Jack's face in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. The two drag it out for minutes, never escalating the heat but maintaining the fire all the same.

Then a message comes through on Jack's Echo: " _Oi, troublemakers! Got good news for ya, Mr Winston's agreed to the Hyperion weapons trade! Didn't take a lot to scare the bastard-- he fucking pissed himself when I deployed Digi-me! Not the most fun of missions you've sent me on, Jack, but for the sake of your arsehole it was absolutely worth it! Hope you're getting railed within an inch of your life. Rhys, best believe I'm taking Jack's deal of renting you out - I wanna see if that mouth of yours well and truly is worth traumatising some old fucker for!"_

**Author's Note:**

> Rhys: Do I really have to eat Zane out?
> 
> Jack: Why not, he's hot.
> 
> Rhys: Son of a bitch, you got me there.


End file.
